On the Edge
by Goddess247
Summary: Sequel to "In the Cell". Eight months after the events on the Three Mile Island and life isn't what you'd call a cherry pie for Wade..
1. Prologue

Prologue

For some time passes slowly, turning every minute in an hour, an hour in a day, a day in a week… For others it's never enough. For Wade Winston Wilson, the Weapon Eleven, it just did not exist at all.

It has been eight months since the turning point that took place on the Three Mile Island. Eight months, a week and two days. He kept count. Although it wasn't exactly a piece of cake to calculate for how much time you've been a monster.

The mirrors were shattered or removed, the gloves and the mask became a part of what he was now, his sarcasm (not that there were living souls to use it on) was still there, even more violent and demanding, cruel and bitter.

His healing rate was astonishing. Wade checked it first-hand when he had to scrape his own mouth open. He bet the Sideburn-bud would be jealous. In the back of his head where the chip used to be, the one with which the Colonel controlled his perfect soldier, the thoughts of revenge for the brothers Grimm began to form. Logan and Victor. _Logan&Victor. _He mused, it sounded like Haggis or Johnson&Johnson. But as the time passed he thought about the situation, then thought again, and again, and a couple thousand times after that. The conclusion: they all were simple chess figures beneath the hands of a madman, and he wanted that madman dead.

How was it that everything the sick colonel touched became twisted, ruined, tormented. He, Fred, Wreith, Bradley…Logan…Kayla…Emma…

_Emma…_

_Emma…_

There wasn't a day that his mind didn't drift to the cell. Stone, adamantium and cold…the bars…and her face behind them. Her flawless pale-white skin, her big blue orbs , her perfect lips… They say that after some time you start to forget the features of the face, then you forget the exact color of the eyes, and one day you wake up and you're not able to recall any special traits – all that's left are abstracts – feelings, emotions…

That was so not his case. He laughed and laughed hysterically after that for he, with all the damaged brain and crashed head, could remember every little tiny thing about her.

She was his silent black-and-white movie. Awake, asleep he saw the clips of her, pictures in his mind. That was comforting. He laughed again, the sound mixing with the one of the samurai blades slicing through the skin of his arm, creeping out to the full extend. He liked to just watch it.

The memories of her and the blades…_definitely pathetic._

It took him eight months to conclude the following: he was disfigured, his only pleasant memories of life as conflicted as it sounded were of his time in the cell, and he was officially completely medically crazy.

_Congratulations, handsome, you've got wonderful prospects of a future life._

Another laugh sliced through the silence of an abandoned house. A shrill, omniac sound. But it was never even intended to sound as a laugh in a first place.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Friends with benefits.

It was rather cynical, a long way from a fairy-tale but it was the truth. A bare-naked up-to-date truth.

Emma stared at her own reflection in the mirror and sighed deeply.

At first she thought that she would be able to keep the pretence she and Remy started almost nine months ago. She persuaded herself that she really did cradle feelings for him, that this feelings just weren't as strong and all-around-consuming as the ones that she still had for…a certain mercenary. She didn't dare to even think his name..not in the context.

In less then a month after the island events she found herself trapped in a relationship with a man who adored her and probably even loved (the best way Remy could love anyone, his own unique way in which he understood love at least) and feeling totally hopeless because of the evil wrong wish to run away that was slowly eating up on her insides. The wish she knew she would not fulfill.

The honey brown of her hair fell just beneath her shoulders as she carelessly started brushing them.

Another couple months in their relationships and the bitter taste of deception started to slowly fade away. Or has she just become to accustomed to it? Emma couldn't tell the difference anymore. Or maybe it was the fact that the Cajun finally caught on to the lack of romantic feelings on her part though apparently he decided that it was still worth it for him because he stayed. And true to his ward given to her when the Three Mile Island was leaving their line of sight – he made her feel safe, loved and wanted.

He had his cards, bars, gambling, their apartment (that never earned a label "home" from her) and her.

She had her dreams. Dreams of a tall twenty-something man with mischievous hazel eyes.

He knew about her dreams. Somewhere along the road he found out about that double life of hers. She was thankful he let her keep it only saying something like "What's the point of dreaming of a dead guy?" once in a while. She'd smile and he'd let her off the hook.

That's how they got to where they currently were – friends with benefits.

She didn't dare to look at the reflecting glass anymore.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Yeah?" Emma heard a familiar voice on the other end of the line.

"Hey/" She coughed a bit.

"What's up? You home?" Remy questioned, though it seemed he was busy with something of his own.

"Yes, I just came." Emma unconsciously started rubbing her neck where the burning aching sensation has already started forming. "Hmm…I'm really tired…rain check?"

There was a deep sigh and though she couldn't see it she imagined the Cajun look up and shake his head a little, a look of disapprovement on his face:

"Sure. I'll put it with the other umbrellas you keep giving me." The line went still.

The young woman exhaled. This definitely was not a the part of her plan. Less then anything in the world she wanted to keep hurting her friend but today she just couldn't bring herself to go on with the lying. She had a hard, exhausting day and she intended to end it as fast as possible, using a bed, a pillow and a blanket. And if she's lucky a…good night's dream.

After turning off her cell and tossing it carelessly on the kitchen table, she made her way to the bedroom, slipping off her shoes in the process. She took off the grey hoody and a second later it was on the floor in front of the king-sized bed as Emma fell on it, feeling almost all parts of her body go numb at the contact. She didn't bother to cuddle the pillow or close the curtains so that the sun wouldn't blind her the morning after. The only thing she did close was her eyes, bringing the blanket to envelop her in a safe cocoon to make an allusion of some kind of a safe-heaven of her own building.

---

His hands were massaging her shoulders as a moan escaped her lips. His movements were soft and sharp at the same time. She arched her back and the next moment the feeling of his hands on her back was gone replaced by the other of his lips just behind her right ear, much more desirable one. She smiled and brought hands up to trace them along his head and neck, leaving one of them in his hair.

His lips lingered a little longer on the spot near her ear before making their way down to the side of her neck and stopped on her collarbone.

"Oh, God, Wade…" She breathed his name when he started sulking on that same collarbone.

He chuckled:

"Just Wade is fine."

She smiled at that. _Too bad his mouth is skilled in all the departments._ She didn't have time to process the thought as he suddenly turned her to face him, firesly claiming her lips with his. The gasp was lost in her throat the second his lips touched her pink soft ones. She didn't hasitate to grant him the entrance, she never did. His hands were roaming her back, tugging on the materiel of her plain white shirt and hers flew up to cup his face. It seemed that he was drinking on her, her essence. Although at moments like this she thought he was her essence.

She drew back, breathing heavily, tracing her right hand's fingers along his face, watching his features carefully.

"Take me. Now." She whispered, smiling.

"What the…"

A clear voice.

The illusion was broken as Emma's eyes snapped open.

She popped up on her elbows, the blanket flying off her face to rest on her chest. Emma blinked a couple times to adjust to the darkness and see the figure, learning on the doorframe.

"I'm home." The figure announced somewhat annoyed.

She kept her eyes on him for another minute not even bothering to breath. Eye to eye. Finally Remy produced a sharp intake of breath and zig-zaged to the bathroom. Emma fell back on the bed with the strangest feeling in the pit of her stomach.

There was somebody else….in her dream…vision…and the result of their presence was the fracture of it…

…_but it wasn't Remy…_


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

He watched her.

He watched her again.

That's exactly how their relationships started in the first place. There was her. And there was him. And he was watching her, observing, contemplating, taking her in.

Now, less then a year later, he was doing it again. Although this time compared to the last was like new age and old school. He should definitely make a list when he's bored enough.

This time they were free. Though he couldn't tell if this freedom was worth it in the end. He didn't have cancer, though he wasn't sure if that was worth as well since he obviously couldn't accept himself. Most of all, this time he didn't have her, well not in reality at least.

Wade looked up from his hiding spot in the shadows of the trees of the park. For the master of disguise it wasn't hard to get lost at any place at all. The park…now that was an irony. But he had to see what he came here to see.

There she was. Like these ten months never happened. Now more then ever She was everything he wasn't: bald, beautiful, breath-taking. After all Stryker has cursed all _his_ being depicted was horror, chaos, sickness.

Her appearance differed from the times in the cell but she looked just like in the dream that made him search her up…

"_**Wilson? That really you?" A tall man in her early twenties stood stunned, his speech at unlikely low speed level. **_

"_**Who did you expect to see, Maximoff? Alice from Wonderland?" The ninja entered with no exact invitation. **_

_**Pietro looked him up and down, his hair shining a bright white, reflecting the rays of sun that burst through the window, then raised his eyebrow without the slightest hint of surprise:**_

"_**I heard about the island. Figured you'd be dead.." **_

_**The blond was as careless as ever. It wasn't the tone of his voice that made Wade tense though it went unnoticed by the other mutant. **_

"_**Although I'm absolutely thrilled to small-talk with you, the time works against me. I need you to help me find someone."**_

"_**Who?" The speedster picked the eyebrows again.**_

"_**Her name's Emma Frost. At least it used to be. Twenty-one." **_

"_**Girlfriend of yours?" Pietro mused and before the mask-man could plant a punch on the back of his head speeded off to the corner of the room where the laptop was being bored alone on the table of red wood. **_

"_**There's no Emma Frost as far as I can tell." He announced a second later. Wade appeared next to him. "And before you loose your breath, I have all the resources that could know where she is."**_

_**The man clad in the dark costume and a coat nodded:**_

"_**Then search for the mutant women her age that appeared in NY or it's suburbs in last ten months." **_

"_**So she is your girlfriend then…OUCH!!!"**_

_**This time there was a hit on a blonde's head.**_

"_**Hey, man, I'm just trying to help!"**_

_**Deadpool didn't have the time to respond for there was a beeping of the machine to interrupt.**_

"_**A-a-a-a-and you're the winner! Four female mutants at the period of time you've given. Let's see…" he brushed the buttons slightly with his pale long fingers. "Tyra McQuill, Wanda…oh, sis is in NY…could of called..so bitchy of her..so much like her actually…anyway, Kayla Winston and Takeshi Mamoru."**_

"_**Who was the third one?"**_

_**There were a few things in this world that could surprise Wade Wilson, the name has done the trick – his mouth was agape. **_

"_**Kayla Winston? A…about three months ago she worked in the Bamboo Night Club. Why?"**_

"_**Address?"**_

_**Pietro chuckled:**_

"_**Sure."**_

_**He scribbled letters and numbers at a highly inhuman rate. The mercenary took the note and turned to leave without a single word, a wisecrack. **_

"_**Wilson?" A voice from behind. "What happened there?"**_

_**He kept on walking but throw over the shoulder:**_

"_**Prey you never find out."**_

A blast of emotions compared only to the thounder of thoughts rushed through him as he saw he sliding to the wooden bench on the shore of the small lake.

Was he considering going over? He didn't know. She was amazingly kind, she was beautiful and she was alive. That was much more that he could say for himself.

She was watching the waters and by the look in her eyes he could tell that for some reason she wished she could drown in them.

Wade hesitated for only one second longer before stepping out of his hide-out. He was about to make one more step to reach her when a high-pitched laughter stopped him. He took a minute to examine the change in the atmosphere. And to one in Her. She was smiling..she was…but that smile never reached her eyes.

Two steps back.

A second later the hands of a woman that occupied his every thought lately went around a small girl of about six years of age with flaming red hair and an adorable smile. Emma spinned the little thing around in her arm, making her laugh even more. As the child was carefully placed on the ground a pair was approached by a tall athletic-built man slightly senior then Wade himself. The red-head tugged on his jeans and he gently lifted her in his arms. Then faced the woman of diamond and smiling warmly hugged her.

A stab of jealousy. A huge one.

Emma closed her eyes, smiling as well, and hugged him back.

A stab of pain.

They were a picture of a perfect family.

A stab of anger colored with sadness and a mock to himself performed by a shattered mind.

Deadpool was gone with the next blow of the wind. Opening her eyes, Emma turned her head to the unknown (or most likely forgotten) feeling of being watched…by Him.


End file.
